


A Fool's Smile

by EricaJoan (CallunaErica)



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2140875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallunaErica/pseuds/EricaJoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne discovers her father's plan to marry her to Edward of Lancaster and decides to take matters into her own hands.  An alternative history of Richard and Anne's love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Beginning at court during the Christmas festivities of 1470, the story of Richard and Anne should they have chosen another path in history.

The litter rocked and groaned as it crossed the cobble courtyard, and Anne and her mother and sister grumbled for the umpteenth time at the discomfort their carriage provided. Isabel, four months into her pregnancy and just beginning to swell at her waist, again clutched at her belly, constantly worrying for the safety of her unborn child.

"It will all be well, Isabel," their mother sighed wearily. "A woman may travel on the roads well into the latter stages of her pregnancy so long as she avoids riding on horseback. Please do stop your fretting."

The countess of Warwick did not continue, but the constant wringing of her hands and twisting of her many rings indicated to her daughters that her nerves were wrought, and Isabel's continuous paranoia only served to intensify her own fears. Yet, the countess's distress was, indeed, not for her grandchild, but for their own imminent arrival at court. Her husband, who rode ahead on horseback alongside her son-in-law George and his men, had rebelled against the king earlier in the year. Their treasonous actions, which had included imprisoning the king in Warwick Castle and executing the father and brother of the queen, sat very ill with the countess and she knew they could not hope for anything more than a frosty reception.

The Earl of Warwick and Duke of Clarence had been invited to court for the king's Yuletide festivities of 1470. They were promised a warm welcome for themselves and their wives and families, but all knew the truth behind the pretence: the king wished for no further disturbance to his reign, and that meant keeping his mightiest subject and wayward brother quietly under his thumb. This show of forgiveness and cousinly love was surely to humble two threatening rebels of the realm and force their future loyalty. The countess once again wrung her ageing hands; she dreaded the humiliation they would have to suffer and the icy wrath of the queen that was inevitable.

Her youngest daughter, Anne, could not help but mirror the fearful countenances of her mother and sister, and picked at the brocade of her skirts. The dress was new, part of an entire trousseau of garments that her father had commissioned for their Christmas visit to court. At thirteen years, Anne was becoming a woman, and her changing body called for new cuts and the latest fashions. Her childish dresses of last winter would not do before Queen Elizabeth's ladies. Besides, Lord Warwick intended for the men of the court to notice his young daughter. Unmarried, Anne was still a valuable asset to him and could be used to forge crucial alliances for his own purposes. Anne needed to look like a prize for any man: pretty and alluring in her innocence. Shamed as he was, Warwick hoped that Anne would pry eyes away from her father.

As for Anne herself, she was somewhat excited to go to court. Had it not been for her father and brother-in-law's rebellion, she'd have been unable to contain herself. She had not been to court for years, and this time she was finally old enough to participate in all the adult ceremonies rather than being hurried off to bed by the maids. She had been told of King Edward and Queen Elizabeth's glittering court - the grandest in Europe - and she was raring to experience all its wonders for herself. She could not wait to wear her fine new dresses and dance with all of the king's handsome men. Her mother's blatant fears were enough to dampen her spirits, but not to take away all of her girlish anticipation.

Anne was indulging in thoughts of swirling satin skirts when she noticed that the litter had come to a halt. A servant opened the door to them and held out a hand to each of the women one by one to help them down. Her father was already ahead and dismounting his horse, his face a wall of stone that betrayed no emotion. It took Anne by surprise to see her brother-in-law's reception; the king had already made his way down the castle's stone steps and swept his wayward brother into a tight embrace. He then moved to clasp his cousin, Warwick, in the same way. The court was astounded at the king's genuine show of affection and reconciliation. The queen stood at the top of the steps, her rage evident as her pale eyes blazed. Behind her, another looked on with equal disapproval but no anger. Richard, Duke of Gloucester, gazed down at the exchange with distaste. He did not agree with Edward's choice to forgive his disloyal brother George and found the farce of Edward's reconciliation left a bitter taste in his mouth.

However, when he caught sight of his young cousin Anne, who stood awkwardly with her sister and mother, he could not help but quiet a little of his disapproval. His fair cousins did not deserve his cool attitude and he decided he could be civil to Warwick and Clarence, if only for their sake. Still, when his turn came to greet the party, he did not copy Edward's exuberant embraces, merely bowing to the guests and kissing the hands of the ladies as was customary. His brother, he decided, could not hope to expect such ardent forgiveness from him.

*****

After all the guests had been appropriately welcomed and shown to their chambers, they made their way down to the Banqueting Hall, where the king was hosting a great feast to welcome his guests and formally begin his Christmas celebrations.

Anne felt quite wonderful. She was dressed in one of her finest new garments - a dress made from swathes of dusky pink satin and trimmed with pale gold velvet. He father had picked it out for the occasion.

"You are the perfect English rose, my Anne," he had said, "and I want everyone in the room to know it."

The dress fit Anne perfectly and hugged her newly-formed breasts in a way that made them look decidedly larger. Around her neck hung a sweet pearl necklace that matched a small pair of teardrop earrings, gifted to her by the people of Yorkshire for her last birthday. Her father had forbidden the gauzy headdresses that were fashionable with the queen's ladies and insisted that she leave her hair down like flowing gold. When they were ready to descend for the banquet, her maids had led her to her father and mother for their approval. The countess had smiled quietly while her father clapped his hands together triumphantly. It was precisely as he had hoped for; no man would be able to tear his eyes from her.

As she made her way behind her parents, sister and George, Anne could not help but grin with glee. Tonight was her first evening at court and she felt like a princess. The doors to the Banqueting Hall opened and as the party was announced to the court, a hush fell over the room. Warwick swiftly led his family to one side of the hall, weaving between groups of courtiers who all allowed their gaze to follow the rebellious earl. Discomfort was palpable from all sides and they looked to their king for what to do.

Edward, merry as ever when good food, fine wine, and beautiful women were aplenty, laughed his signature booming laugh and stood from his throne. He paid no heed to his haughty wife's affronted expression and instead opened his arms wide and looked upon his courtiers.

"Friends, we bid you welcome here at court as we commence the first feast of our Yuletide festivities. Cousin Warwick, your fair daughter Anne looks so becoming this evening, think you she might deign upon us to open our dances?"

Edward's eyes fell upon his young cousin whom he had not seen since she was much younger. The mischievous girl at Middleham had flourished in his absence and allowing her to begin the dances was a way to honour the Earl of Warwick. He hoped that indulging Warwick's daughter would please the earl and help heal the rift between the two men. The earl nodded his acquiescence, only too eager to advertise his daughter in such a fashion. As a symbol of reconciliation between the two families, he called forward his proposed partner for the lady.

"Brother, Richard, will you come forth and partner for Lady Anne?"

Edward knew his loyal youngest brother would be unable to refuse such a request and, true enough, Richard soon emerged from the throng of onlookers. His raven head was cast down as he bowed before his elder brother, but he strode to the other side of the hall and dutifully sought the hand of his cousin's daughter.

Anne blushed as he approached her. The young boy that she had watched practicing to be a knight at the tiltyard in Middleham was now a man. He was seventeen and already highly regarded by the king. He was not so witty nor devilishly handsome as his two brothers, but, famed for his dark curls, earnest grey-green eyes, and honest charm, he was still the target of many a female stare at court. Anne found him to be much more agreeable than his large, boisterous brothers, for he was smaller and closer to her own petite height. She liked his lopsided, bashful grin and the encouraging look in his eyes as he held his hand out to her.

Anne had practiced many a quadrille in her years of tutelage, but she had never been schooled in the art of taking the warm hand of a handsome partner nor having to concentrate upon dance steps when accompanying a man who wasn't her wrinkled dance master or a maid playing the part. Don't be so foolish, she scolded herself, it's only Richard - a boy you've known since childhood. She'd seen him fall off his horse, he'd chased her with a frog, they'd played games with her sister and her father's other wards. It was only Richard! And yet Richard seemed entirely different from the boy that she had known. He was taller and a good deal broader. He had just been growing into his man's body when he'd ridden off to serve his brother three years ago. Now he had grown into his looks and was enough to captivate young Anne's romantic imagination. In the few short steps that it took for him to lead her to the centre of the hall, Anne was already wondering what it would be like to feel his kiss.

Soon, the band of musicians began the first bars of their dance and Anne had to pull her thoughts back to present. She forced herself to remember all the steps and execute them flawlessly so as not to embarrass herself and her family before the entirety of the royal court. She scarcely looked at Richard as he lead her through the steps, afraid that she would become distracted. After the first segment, the pair were joined on the floor by several other couples. Now no longer the centre of attention, Anne relaxed into the dance and allowed herself a few covert glances at her partner. Every time she dared to look up Richard would meet her gaze and give her a smile of encouragement, understanding her timidity at this very public display on her first court appearance. As the dance concluded, Richard gently pulled her hand up to kiss it.

"Thank you for this dance, my Lady Anne," he said, looking up at her with a soft smile. He rose back to his full height before bending forward and briefly sliding his hand to her waist. "You look beautiful."

Anne fumbled with her words, instead curtseying low and scuttling away to the fringes of the room and the sanctuary of her sister. She perched on the bench next to Isabel who was resting, a little fatigued.

"I'm sorry you had to dance with Richard, Anne. So many handsome men in the room and the king made you dance with him. A pity." said Isabel lightly.

Anne was affronted and turned to face her sister. "I'm afraid I don't agree, Isabel. He was quite wonderful."

Isabel scoffed. "Oh dear, don't tell me you have eyes for Gloucester! Anne, honestly, don't you remember that puling little boy from Middleham who could never stay atop his horse? He's surely no better now. The very first man to pay you any attention and already you're quite lovesick, you little fool! Look at you, I can tell from that wistful look in your eyes!"

Anne just shook her head and decided to ignore her elder sister. Isabel had always been bossy and a know-it-all, and besides, now she was married and had no proper suitors, she was surely just jealous of all Anne's fun. No men would dare look at Isabel now she was Duchess of Clarence and Isabel was undoubtedly green with jealousy that her little sister had danced the first dance and been given all the new dresses. No, Anne decided, Isabel was just envious of her own chances of excitement and romance.

Just as she was about to seek out her mother and father, the great gong brought to the king from an expedition to the Orient was sounded to signal the beginning of the feast. Long tables were brought to the centre from the fringes of the room and each person was directed to their allocated seat according to rank. Anne was seated with her family close to the royal table for, despite his rebellion, Lord Warwick was still the highest ranking magnate in the land. She was disappointed, however, to discover that Richard was too far away to talk to and she would not be able to make up for her shyness earlier. Edward was only too happy to let his brother dance with Anne, but sitting him next to Warwick, where the earl could, and no doubt would, try to coerce him into some manner of elaborate scheme, was a step too far. Edward had no desire to let Richard anywhere near Warwick's nest of vipers.

Anne couldn't help but constantly look over to where Richard was sat near the king and, every so often, he'd spy her looking at him and smile or wink at her. She blushed every single time but still could not stop herself from peeking over again, a complete glutton for her own embarrassment. 

The feast was lavish, as was befitting for the English royal court, with every manner of beast present upon the table. Plates were piled high and the wine flowed freely. Anne was unaccustomed to the excess of court life and found the food overly rich for her tastes. She was forced to frequently wash down foreign flavours and oily sauces with the wine and soon she had partaken of more than her little body could comfortably take. Everything was so very, very funny and by the end of her meal Anne's face was buried in her napkin to stifle her giggles. Her mother scolded her and would barely leave her alone once they had abandoned the table, afraid that her daughter would say or do something entirely inappropriate in her inebriated state. It was unbearable and as soon as the countess was called into conversation with some other ladies, Anne made her hasty escape.

She slipped from the Banqueting Hall and ran down the long corridors laughing as she nearly caught her feet in her long skirts. She lifted them at either side and swished them around her as she waltzed her way along the passages of the palace. She stopped abruptly as she passed the royal armoury. She'd always been fascinated by the young knights training with her father and was amazed at the pieces which were displayed throughout the room. Swords and axes, weapons of every description lined the walls and Anne gazed with wonder upon each tool. She knew the power of them, knew how wielding them well or ill could decide the fate of thousands of men in a single battle. Moving through the room she found the large suits of armour on display, They were polished to perfection, so thoroughly that Anne's own face was reflected back at her when she examined it.

As she came closer, she was presented with the metallic codpiece proudly jutting from the groin of the armour and pointing as if straight at her. She giggled at that, unable to stop the childish amusement from taking hold of her.

"What is so funny, my lady?"

A voice behind her startled her and she whipped around to see that Richard had followed her.

Anne blushed furiously, completely embarrassed at having been caught not only where she should not be but laughing at codpieces.

"Nothing," she muttered. "Why did you follow me here? Are you spying on me, my Lord of Gloucester?"

Richard laughed quietly. "No, my lady, I was merely concerned when I noticed you wander off. I thought I might be of some assistance."

"Oh, nothing was the matter! It's just my mother... she won't ever leave me alone," said Anne, trying her best to enunciate so Richard wouldn't be able to tell quite how much wine she'd had.

"Ah, I see," Richard said, before moving around her to inspect the suit of armour she had been examining. "They're ridiculously heavy, you know. Very uncomfortable to wear."

"You've been wearing them for a long time, though," Anne pointed out. "I remember you wearing your iron plate in the tiltyard at Middleham. You and all the other boys would be learning to hit a target. I was so jealous, it all looked like such fun. You favoured the battle axe then, if I remember rightly?"

"I can wield a sword, of course," Richard mused, "but the battle axe has always suited me better; you get a much better swing, you can lop a man's -"

He stopped mid sentence, his eyes wide.

"I apologise, madam, I am sure no lady desires to think of such things."

Anne giggled, "oh no, I do not mind at all! As I said, I was very jealous of you all, how desperately I wanted to learn exciting things instead of sewing and elocution!"

Giddy from the wine, Anne proceeded to re-enact a dramatic battle scene in which she faced many foes and swung an imaginary sword, thrusting at an invisible oncoming charge. Richard laughed and grabbed at her flying hands just before she could accidentally hit him in the face. Grasping her two small hands in his own, Richard bent down to touch his lips to hers.

It was entirely impulsive on his part, that is, kissing her at that moment. But Anne couldn't think about that, couldn't think about anything at all other than the fact that this was her very first kiss. She smiled against his lips, completely delighted with herself and with his attentions.

He pulled away rather bashfully after just a few seconds and bowed awkwardly before her before running his fingers through his hair.

"My lady," he uttered quietly, unsure of whether he'd done the right thing to kiss her.

Anne smiled at his endearing embarrassment.

"You are a true knight, my lord, just like in all the legends. Here," she said, reaching into a bodice and taking out her handkerchief. She pressed it into his palm and he could read A.N. sewn into the fabric. "It's my token for you."

As she said so she giggled again and swayed slightly as she stood. Richard was reminded of her intoxication and innerly berated himself again.

"I should escort you to your chamber, Lady Anne. It's late and you need your rest," he told her, offering his arm.

Anne pouted by took his arm all the same, a little thrilled to be able to walk along in such a way. This is how they'd walk if they were married, she thought. They'd stroll through their gardens every day arm in arm and life would be so lovely.

As they reached the corridor around the corner from Anne's quarters, Richard came to a halt. It wouldn't do for anyone to see him too close to the rooms of an unmarried woman, especially the Earl of Warwick's daughter. Scanning the corridor quickly and spying not a soul, he quickly leaned down to peck her lips once again.

"Goodnight, fair Lady Anne," he whispered, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Anne giggled quietly, still quite drunk. "Call me Anne," she said softly.

"Your head may feel a little thick tomorrow, Anne," he said with a smile, "but sleep well until then."

She rolled her eyes at that, and turned to walk to her rooms, swaying her new skirts about her as she did and laughing quietly to herself.

Richard watched as she walked away, simultaneously enchanted and entirely confused. His little playmate of old was now a beautiful young woman whom he was immensely attracted to, but he shouldn't - couldn't - pursue her and, besides, she was still so young. She had so very much to learn about the world and everybody in it. The game of knights and ladies was all very well, but life was never so sweet as that - as Richard had learned from a very young age. Still, it was refreshing to see someone so innocent and hopeful at court in these dark days, even if her father was a snake in the grass. Musing all the way, Richard hurried back to the Banqueting Hall hoping nobody had noted his prolonged absence.

Meanwhile, Anne allowed her maids to remove her dress and pearls, and to plait her hair in preparation for sleep. A fool's smile graced her lips as she tumbled into bed. The maids looked at each other and shook their heads at the young intoxicated lady, but Anne neither noticed nor cared. Richard, she thought, was a true prince of the realm. As she fell into slumber, her thoughts were filled with kisses.


	2. Chapter II

A Fool's Smile

Chapter Two

Just as Richard had predicted, Anne felt a little worse for wear when she awoke the next morning. She was shaken awake by her maids and pulled into a deep blue dress. A powder was brushed over her face in an effort to mask her pallor, and they sat her down and brushed her long hair before twisting it into an extravagant braid and weaving in a ribbon to match the brocade of her dress. A gold crucifix was clasped round her neck before she was swiftly delivered to her parents.

"Where did you disappear to last night, Anne?" her mother asked, her dark eyebrow raised in disapproval. Anne noticed her father's attempt to look disinterested, but his inward lean indicated that he, too, was interested to know her whereabouts.

"I went to my chambers," Anne lied slowed. "I'd had rather too much wine and I thought it better I leave."

The countess dropped her head to one side and narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, that would do, except your maids said you came in at midnight and no one had seen you for at least an hour before that."

"I forgot the way, I was not sure how to get back to my chambers..." Anne began.

"Nobody saw the Duke of Gloucester for some time either, though he arrived back at the banquet around midnight. That is a strange coincidence, don't you think?"

Anne blushed furiously, knowing that she could not continue lying to her mother and that she would already have to go to confession later.

"Leave her be, Nan." 

Lord Warwick's intrusion was quite unexpected to both mother and daughter, and they both whipped around to face him.

"Provided she does not make a fool of herself, I do not see why she should not try to make friends in high places. You will not be marrying him, Anne, that I can promise you. The boy's as loyal as a dog to his brother and therefore of no use to me, but having an ally in him can be no bad thing for you."

Anne's heart dropped at her father's blunt truth. Of course, she'd known it was unlikely they'd be permitted to marry; the king had already denied her father's request a few years ago and he'd been enraged when George married Isabel without his consent. But the knowledge that her father, too, did not endorse the marriage was the nail in the proverbial coffin. 

The morning's chapel service was hardly a spiritual experience for Anne. For one thing, rather that focusing on her prayers, she was entirely caught up in thoughts of Richard. She knew she was being silly after but one small kiss, but she truly was heartsore to know that a union between them could never be. For years they had been betrothed in all but name and this new turn of events was a blow, if not unsurprising given the circumstances. However, besides her whimsical fancies, the effects of the previous night's indulgences were beginning to wear on her. Her head, just as Richard had predicted, was thick and throbbing with pain, and she was becoming quite concerned that she might, at some point, spill her stomach in the chapel. Her mother, she knew, would never speak to her again if she did.

It was a relief when Mass finally ended, but the bustling hall where the court breakfasted was not much better for her nausea or sore head. She was feeling quite sorry for herself and was pushing her eggs around her plate when Richard surprised her by sitting himself down on the bench opposite. 

Anne blushed profusely and sat up straight, embarrassed by what she was sure was her very unattractive ill pallor. "Your grace... good morning!"

Richard grinned at her startled expression. "Good morning, Anne. How are you feeling?"

"Quite well," Anne mumbled, looking down at her lap and fiddling with her napkin in an attempt to hide the lie.

"It is alright," Richard said softly, "I too have felt much the same as you do now. It's damned awful."

Anne laughed quietly but soon groaned at the pain it caused her head. 

"I haven't felt this ill since I had the measles when I was ten."

Richard laughed, "come now, Anne, I remember how bad you were then and how we all worried for you. It can't be nearly so terrible!"

"You were worried for me?"

"Of course I was worried. We all missed you when you were stuck inside and couldn't come out to play with us in the afternoons."

Anne's heart warmed at his admission but was soon distracted when he placed a goblet before her.

"This will help," he told her.

There was an unfamiliar liquid in it, and Anne wrinkled her nose at what it could be.

"Does the Earl of Warwick not bring exotic fruits to his estates?" Richard pondered, and under his breath added, "he has every other indulgence. This is juice squeezed from oranges, Anne. Edward has them brought in from Spain for the queen. It is very refreshing, and it should make you feel a little better."

He was right. The juice quenched her thirst when the thought of more wine turned it, and she soon began to brighten a little.

"Richard, while you're here, I just wanted to... apologise for my behaviour last night. It was most unladylike and I'm sure it must have been very uncomfortable and embarrassing for you to have to look after me, the daughter of a traitor. I promise I won't be so silly again. Nor will I have so much wine..."

"You don't need to apologise, Anne. I wasn't embarrassed."

"But I realise the situation you were in; your loyalty to your brother was implicated by me. I am the daughter of a man who has disgraced his king and country."

Richard leaned over the table to look her squarely in the eye. He was inclined to take her hand but taking a seat opposite her was already enough to raise some eyebrows.

"Listen to me, Anne. Indeed, I am above all else loyal to my brother the king, and Warwick has not yet regained my trust. His daughter, however, bears no guilt but association, which seems a poor excuse to condemn her. Besides, it seems a great shame to ignore a pretty and charming little cousin at the Yuletide festivities merely because of her father's mighty ambitions, wouldn't you agree?"

Anne could only nod.

"Now, will you come out to watch the hunt later with the other ladies?"

"I will."

"Good. In which case, I hereby pledge to catch a fine prize for you, my lady," he said with a wink.

\---

The hunt, just like the banquet of the previous evening, was rife with pageantry and splendour. The king and his men were bedecked in fine furs, and Anne could not help but admire Richard's dark blue cloak that was so beautifully trimmed with ermine. As the men galloped off to the distant forests for their sport, the women remained near the castle grounds, entertained by musicians and jesters. Anne had noticed the stony faces of her father and George before they rode off and wondered whether they would even attempt to partake in the pleasures of the hunt, or if their bad moods would prevent them from doing so. For the thousandth time she cringed at being associated so intricately with these two men, but soon her attention was taken by Isabel who insisted that Anne be her maidservant and fetch her chicken wings to eat while she sat and stroked her expanding belly.

It was several hours later, after the prizes of the hunt had been proudly brought into the castle to be prepared, that another great feast was underway. Anne felt bitterly alone, Isabel having gone to bed early with fatigue. Many of the gentlewomen at court ostracised her because of her father and, despite the appraising looks from many a gentleman, no one dared approach her. She retreated to a seat on the side of the hall, from which vantage point she could spy Richard talking with some courtiers. She was disappointed to discover that he was deep in conversation and did not seem to be seeking her out as she was him.

Anne breathed a sigh of relief when someone finally approached her to ask her to dance. He was old enough to be her father, but he was captivated by her innocent beauty and felt sorry for the little lady sat by herself. But Anne did not care about his age and gleefully followed him to the centre of the room, glad to finally have been paid some attention.

Her heart fell, however, when she saw whom they were to be paired with. The dance required two pairs to dance together in a square and she and her partner were to dance with Richard and his chosen partner, one of the queen's many sisters. The Woodville girls were famed for their silver hair, willowy figures and serene elegance. She was no match whatsoever for this tall beauty.

As the Woodville girl slipped her hand in Richard's, Anne boiled with jealousy and hardly noticed that her own partner was pulling her into position to begin the dance. This time she didn't even pretend to focus on the steps or feign enthusiasm for her partner; she couldn't pull her gaze from the couple dancing next to her. Every time Richard brushed the girl's waist, Anne's jealousy was renewed. He smiled and gazed into this beautiful girl's eyes and Anne just knew that he'd forgotten all about her.

What she hadn't considered was the latter half of this particular dance, which involved the swapping of partners. Before her mind could register the fact, Richard's hand clasped hers and he led her into the next steps, a series of turns and chasses. 

"How did you enjoy the venison? I told you I'd bring you a prize," he asked between steps.

"You caught the stag? Oh, but, Richard, it was huge!"

"I had a good incentive," he smirked. "My, she's dull," he continued, throwing his head in the direction of his previous partner, "I much prefer to dance with you."

"You do?"

"Yes," he insisted, twirling her again. As she finished her turn and faced him again, he leaned closer and whispered softly in the shell of her ear, "slip away after this dance. Meet me outside the hall."

When the dance came to an end, Anne rushed her curtsey before scuttling into the throng of onlookers and discretely making her way out of the room. She hid behind the great wooden door and was soon caught up by Richard.

"Follow me," he said, looking behind him before grasping her hand and leading her away.

He took her to a small hidden alcove on one of the upper floors. It was hidden behind a large tapestry and Anne didn't want to know how Richard knew it was there. He almost seemed to realise the question on her lips.

"Lots of people know about this place," he told her. "Look!"

Hanging above them in the small space was a bunch of mistletoe. 

"People come here for, you know, privacy..." he explained.

Anne raised an eyebrow. 

"So... anybody could come along looking for some... privacy?" she asked sceptically.

"Hopefully we'll hear them coming," he said, before pulling her small body to his and kissing her fiercely on the mouth.

Anne was so surprised that she stood completely still for a moment, before she moaned softly and settled into his embrace, returning his kiss.

Richard soon deepened the kiss and began pulling at Anne's waist to bring her impossibly closer. His hands travelled up to the swell of her bodice and, despite her inexperience, Anne's body was quickly aflame. Her senses were heightened unlike ever before, and heat flooded to between her thighs. Richard's tongue was seeking entry to her mouth and his rough exhales told her of his desire for her as he continued to clutch frantically at her body.

But, just as abruptly as it began, the kiss ended and Richard violently pulled himself away from her, mumbling breathless, profuse apologies.

"I am... I apologise, my lady... you... so young and-"

Anne was stung.

"I am not young!" she exclaimed, "by June I'll be old enough to choose my own husband!"

Richard exhaled, placed his hand back on her waist gently, and pulled her back to him so he could lay his forehead against hers.

"You're not young, Anne, it's just that I'm getting carried away. Go back to the hall, I'll meet you there once I've had a little time to collect myself."

Anne was indignant, but followed his request, hurrying back to the hall whilst straightening her dress and touching her swollen lips.

\---

From then on, Richard's protestations melted entirely away and the pair met frequently in the alcove and other hidden places. Anne acquired a taste for kissing and was soon ardent enough to match Richard. But as the Yuletide festivities continued, so Anne's imminent departure home drew closer. The night of Twelfth Night, the eve of Anne's return to Warwick Castle, Richard sent her a small missive via one of her lady's maids, asking her to meet him at the alcove.

Anne smiled indulgently as she read his neat script, feeling warm at the prospect of once again enjoying his kisses but also a twinge of sadness at knowing that she would not see him for who knew how long after. She swiftly made her excuses to her maids and hurried through the castle's long passages to meet Richard. 

As she pulled the tapestry away from the wall, she was delighted to find Richard already there waiting for her. He pulled her immediately into his arms and kissed her until both were thoroughly breathless. But as he drew away, Anne noticed his brow was furrowed with troubles.

"Are you sad to see me go, Richard?" she teased, playing with the collar of his doublet as she looked up to meet his eye.

Richard exhaled a small laugh and tightened his grip around her waist.

"You know I am, sweetheart, but that is not what troubles me."

He seemed to brace his shoulders, almost as if he were headed to battle.

"You must know by now how greatly I esteem you; how much affection I have for you. Indeed, I am quite sure I could come to love you, Anne. But the chances of Edward permitting us to marry are slim to none."

Anne drew a sharp breath and added, "and my father can see no benefit from our union either."

"We are pawns in a game that is not ours, Anne," Richard explained, rubbing his thumb over her lower back in a comforting manner as he spoke. "No matter what either of us may wish, we are bound to the will of others and our choices - happiness - are irrelevant."

"It's not fair," Anne pouted, laying her cheek on his chest.

"No," he agreed quietly, "it is not fair at all."

They were silent then for some time, content to be with one another: he stroking her long loose hair and she listening to the reassuring beat of his heart beneath her ear.

"It will soon be time for the Farewell Feast, Anne, but I wanted to say adieu privately, beyond the eyes and ears of the rest of the court. And I wanted to tell you something, something that I want you to remember when you are far away from he in your father's castle. Back when I was your father's page, I always cherished a hope to marry mischievous little Anne Neville. It seems I've never outgrown that desire."

Anne shook her head glumly, certain that, if anything, this only made her feel more upset.

Richard gently lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him.

"We cannot predict what the future may hold for us, Anne. Remember what they say, Fortune's Wheel is forever turning, and what may one day seem impossible, can be achievable the next."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to those who left kind and encouraging comments on the last chapter. I apologise for such a long wait! Please do leave and questions and comments :)


	3. Chapter III

A Fool's Smile

Chapter Three

It was with a heavy heart that Anne left the King's palace. She had not seen Richard since the evening before and had longed to lay eyes on him just once more before she left. She knew, however, that this was perhaps for the best, for to burst into tears in front of an audience would be neither wise nor flattering.

As the litter trundled away from the majestic walls of court, Anne pulled out her favourite prayer book in the hope of distracting her thoughts. There, in the middle of the little book, lay a pressed white rose and a small square of parchment. Upon it was a familiar script with the words, 'loyaute lie mon coeur'. Anne's heart leapt and a tear caught in the corner of her eye, but noticing her mother's curiosity, she quickly shoved the prayer book out of sight and contented herself with looking out the window.

\---

Time passed, and spring began to dawn at Warwick Castle, in perfect timing to complement Lord Warwick's growing irritation. He was relentless in his pursuit of his own advancement and Anne began to truly fear for what was to become of them all.

It was on a particularly chilly spring morning that Anne found herself tiptoeing anxiously into her father's office. She knew he was out hunting in the forest, but she still somewhat irrationally feared that he might be in there, knowingly waiting for her to enter a room that had always been forbidden. Anne was unutterably bored after the long winter and was seeking new reading material. With little companionship from her ever-expanding sister, there was seldom to do inside the drafty castle but read or sew. And Anne had never had a great deal of patience for that feminine art. So she resolved to steal one of her father's old books, knowing full well that he'd be unlikely to notice one missing.

Anne was deliberating between alchemy, taxonomy and history, pacing up and down the bookcases to try to decide which she was most interested in, when she caught sight of a low pile of crisp letters sat in the middle of her father's immaculately ordered desk. It was so unlike her father to leave anything lying around, that she couldn't help but take a peek at the papers.

Her eye was immediately drawn to the bottom of the parchment, where a most intricate and ostentatious signature sat proudly: Louis XI. Unable to quell her curiosity, Anne quickly scanned through the letter, which revealed her fears to be true; Warwick was binding himself to the french king and turning his back on his country once again. Tears pricked her eyes and her throat began to ache with grief as she processed the news that her father had betrayed her trust again and would send his family into flux in the pursuit of his own glory.

Her shock was interrupted by a distant sound of trumpets, signalling the homecoming of the hunt. Anne quickly replaced the letters, as neatly as she had found them, and raced from the room back to the solar, where beginning a new tapestry would have to suffice for current entertainment. But Anne's mind could not help but wander and panic, turning over countless ways in which her father would be able to come back from this fresh treason. What future could he possibly hope for? And what would it mean for the king? For Richard? For her?

After the evening meal, when her father and George retired to Warwick's office for their nightcap, Anne silently followed and sought to eavesdrop through the closed door. It was a dangerous decision, for, should her father catch her, she knew it would be a swift beating that awaited her. But she could not rest until she knew exactly what his plans were and what he would be willing to sacrifice to win his way.

Whatever those plans were, it was clear to Anne from all the way down the corridor that George was not pleased by them. His anger ricocheted off the walls in impassioned shouts, though Anne could not quite discern his words.

As she drew closer to the door, the muffling grew dimmer.

"After everything I've done, the sacrifices I have made! Betrayed my own brother, deserted my seat next to the king!"

"Really, George, this is touching. Your eagerness to usurp your brother quite overshadowed this familial affection," Warwick drawled, clearly unaffected by George's temper.

"I did what I did because I thought it would win me the crown! ME! Not that little shit of Lancaster. How can you dare to consider aligning yourself with that bitch of Anjou?! She killed my father and yours and yet now you seek to be friends?! This is utter madness!"

"It's the only choice we have, George. We've come too far to crawl meekly back now; they'd never give us anything, especially with Edward's witch of a wife whispering in his ear and forbidding him to trust us. We'll be the most meagre of servants, George - the butt of every court joke for now until Judgment Day. We have to try something else. Do you not see?" Warwick's own passion was quickly kindly, no longer as sedate as he had been.

"What I fail to see, cousin, is what I stand to benefit from this. You will be the first lord of the land, father to the Queen of England, but what of me? Am I to be court jester, the one Plantagenet the new Lancaster king will have to begrudgingly accept in his household? I refuse to play dog to that bastard!"

Anne's mind began to whir, desperately trying to decode George's ravings.

"I resolved to put one of my daughters on the throne, whatever the price. I had hoped it would be Isabel, for your sake, George. But circumstances shift, and so must my plans to accommodate them. Now it is to be Anne to take crown. I never dreamed of marrying her into the House of Lancaster, but what must be, must be," Warwick drawled.

Anne's gasp was almost so loud as to be audible in the office, but luckily the thick oak door and roar of the fire overpowered it.

She felt sick, like a red-hot ball of lead had been shoved into her stomach with a poker. Her father meant to marry her to Edward of Lancaster, the boy who had ordered executions at just seven years old. She was to marry the son of a woman who had terrorised England and beheaded her grandfather. She wanted to burst into the office, beg on her knees and beseech her father to change his mind, to spare her this fate. But she knew it to be futile; Warwick's mind was unchangeable when set. As stubborn as a bull when it came to his ambitions, she knew she would never be able to persuade him, not with tears, not with screams, not with despair. She was a daughter and she would do her duty to her father, as was dictated by the law and the Bible. Warwick would hear no pleas. 

Accepting that her father would not be moved, Anne resolved to discover every detail that she could about his plans. She would eavesdrop on her father's squires and advisors, bribe his footmen with sweet meats from the kitchen to tell her who he had visited on his trips and where he had been going. And soon his plan became clear: the earl intended to travel south and sail across The Channel to France, taking his entire family, including Isabel. There he would meet with King Louis and begin negotiating an alliance with the old queen, Margaret of Anjou. Then, with any luck, Anne would be married to Margaret's son as a token of good faith.

Anne's childhood dreams of marrying Richard, though already dampened, seemed utterly irretrievable. She couldn't let her father marry her to Edward of Lancaster - a boy who she would surely despise with all her being. She couldn't allow herself to suffer this eternal punishment when she had done nothing to deserve it; hadn't she been a most kind and dutiful daughter? And Isabel had been permitted to marry George! It was completely unfair!

It was then that Anne decided, without giving any true thought to how exactly she would achieve it, or what the consequences might be, that she must make her own plans to secure her happiness. And so Anne began to carefully plot her escape from Warwick Castle, having learned the approximate date of her father's planned flight to France. 

\---

The evening before they were due to leave, Warwick gathered his family and revealed his plans to them. Anne remained stoic and gracious, acting as though she neither knew about nor minded what he was asking of her. Her mother and sister looked horrified, their fear that Isabel's condition would prevent her from partaking in the journey evident. But, knowing of Warwick's temper and resolve, they remained silent. George seethed in the corner of the room, he, too, knowing that he could not object, but radiating anger from every pore.

As soon as Warwick dismissed his family from the assembly, Anne bid her mother goodnight and set her plan in motion. She ran to the stables, a letter written long in advance and kept on her person carefully stowed in her bodice. She quickly sought out one of her father's fastest envoys, a wiry young man only a few years older than herself. He was, thankfully, alone and grooming his horse when she found him.

"My lady," he said quickly, contorting himself into a hasty bow in his confusion.

"Be at ease, Will," she told him, "I'm not here to spy on you. I have an errand I'd like you to do for me."

Will's confused brow furrowed further, though he made no protestations, remembering well the earl's order that all staff must do as the family instructed without question.

"I know it may seem a little unorthodox, but I don't want my father to hear of this. You must be quick and silent. Here," she delved into her bodice, choicely ignoring Will's wide-eyed stare, "take this letter and make sure you hand it to the Duke of Gloucester. It must go to him and no other, not even his manservant, do you understand?"

Will nodded frantically.

"He's in London at court. You'll be able to find him there with little trouble. Just give him this letter - everything is explained within. You need not say anything to him. Now go, as fast as you can."

Anne raised her eyebrow as only a lady of her standing could, and Will stumbled in his haste to ready himself He stowed her letter in a weatherproof satchel and slung it around his body for protection, then grabbed a fur-lined oilskin cape from the many hung up for Warwick's cavalry. Flinging himself onto his horse, with the agility on a few could hope for, he sloppily saluted Anne before racing off into the blackness of the night.

As soon as he was out of sight, Anne began hurrying her own preparations. She found a leather pouch she had pilfered from her father and slipped into the kitchen larder undetected, shoving all manner of breads, meats, and vegetables into it. She retrieved the small sword she had taken from the armoury weeks ago from its hiding place underneath her mattress and ensured that she was dressed in her thickest gown. She then ran back to the stables and unhooked one of the cavalry oilskins, just like Will had, and tried not to gag at the smell that it held. Her horse was waiting for her, saddled and prepared by a stable boy who had been instructed a few hours earlier.

"Are you sure it's wise to go riding at night, my lady?" he whispered, as he helped her into the saddle. His eyes were wide with concern; he had noticed her unusual attire and baggage.

"I'm leaving, Johnny. They won't know until morning and I intend for it to stay that way."

"I can't allow you to leave on you own like this, my lady," he told her, frightened to anger Warwick's daughter but his chivalry also compelling him to stop her. He was only sixteen himself and could not bear to think of little Lady Anne out on the dark road alone, where all manner of bandits and blaggards lurked.

Anne paused for the first time since she began exacting her plans. Fear clawed at her stomach as she remembered stories of young maidens ravaged on the road. It was certainly very dark and the journey was long.

"Then come with me, Johnny. I'm going, so if you want to protect me then you'd better come along."

"But...Lady Anne. Your father will be furious with me."

"He'll hardly notice a missing stable boy, Johnny. And, besides, aren't you supposed to do exactly as I tell you?"

Johnny gulped at the young lady's fiery stare and realised that he would likely be in trouble whatever he decided. But he couldn't live with himself if Lady Anne perished on the road, and he was sure Lord Warwick would kill him for allowing her to go.

"Alright, my lady, as is your wish."

Johnny hastily saddled his own horse and veiled himself in a cloak, and the two youngsters set off on the road to London, quickly swallowed by the inky darkness. With any luck, they'd be long gone by the time the alarm was raised at Warwick Castle and they realised that the young lady had run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for such a delayed update. I hope that this chapter gets everybody a little bit excited; things are being set in motion! Thank you to those who left such kind comments on the last chapter - your words really encourage me to continue writing and I'm so glad to know that people are enjoying this story so far. Once again, please leave any comments or questions that you may have :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave comments and questions :)


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